


そばかす巨人

by KittyItty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 進撃の巨人
Genre: BULLSHIT TIME, Canon verse, Guess what time it is, M/M, Titan!marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyItty/pseuds/KittyItty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hasn't been long since Marco's body had been discovered and burnt along with the dreams of his closest friend, Jean Kirschtein. On that day, Jean had promised that he would live and fight with the Wings of Freedom to avenge his friend, though when the truth is lifted to reveal lies, his view on reality is quickly shifted to insecurity and darkness.</p><p>Based off Titan!Marco Au</p>
            </blockquote>





	そばかす巨人

 It had been three weeks, no, four; how could he remember? The days had blurred in his mind and he no longer knew how long ago it had happened, though the memories burned in the back of his head like a wildfire had just been sparked to life. He would never forget, he would never forgive, he had taken the blame and forced this guilt onto his chest. In his mind it was his fault, for letting them separate long enough for something like _that_ to happen.

 

It's not like he could help it, they were on entirely different squads, both of them had been leaders of their own, guiding the steps of their comrades with steady and sure hands; Marco Bodt, and Jean Kirschtein.

 

In Jean's mind, it wasn't fair in the slightest. Of all the people who were supposed to live until the sun sets on a world free of Titans, Marco was sure to have been the one; even if it turns to have only one member of the 104th trainee corps, everyone would have wanted it to be him. He was the one who deserved to see the free world that lived without worry outside the walls, he was the one who would see the most beauty from the sun setting behind a vast land made of salt rich water, he was the one who was supposed to be breathing live breaths now.

 

He could see that freckled face like a printed image in his mind during the nights that proved to be restless, every time he dared to close his eyes it was all he could see. At first his heart will fill with joy at seeing the familiar figure, seeing the smile would bring a friendly heat to flow throughout his chest. Though the pain and regret would come when not even a second of the pleasure had passed, forcing him to curl up tightly in the sheets as his mind tried to clear the image. What really hurt the most, was that Marco was always happy; there was always some sort of smile, maybe even an echo of a kind and honest word, but it was joyful and made him burn with flames of pleasure.

 

It had forced him to clench his teeth to the breaking point, only relaxing his jaw when the coppery tint of blood had seeped through to his tongue. The metallic taste, he had come to love it in a sick way, the red liquid had served as a sort of punishment. The shallow wound where it bled would sting for a short moment every breath, and he adored the pain like it was a reward, though the emotions had also been tainted with guilt; Marco wouldn't want something like this.

 

That name, Marco, it was something that had it's own contradicting feel in his mind. There was a part of his mind that adored and loved the name with every last drop of blood his heart could beat, he would never forget those few letters that led to so many memories. But that sole reason was why he had also wanted to despise and forget the name, there was a hidden ire that burned with a raging wildfire within him when those letters were arranged to make a title.

 

Life after he had seen that distorted image of a man had been more painful than it ever had been before, there wasn't a fracture or injury that wounded him physically that would ever burn worst than losing someone like Marco.

 

There was something when he saw him laying there a dead figure, a small thing that he hadn't noticed until he had put thought into seeing it through a fogged mind. Just seeing The look in his eyes, it had drained the life and energy from his being, leaving him nothing but a shallow body walking the earth looking for a soul to bring the life back into his forsaken mind. He was left paralyzed without a whispered word to say good bye.

 

Those brown eyes had always been filled with some sort of spark, a little ember that shined brightly with a friendly flame, welcoming everyone to enjoy the heat and love he gave. There wasn't a living soul that could look into those eyes and claim his life was miserable, Marco had a quality that made everyone see the brighter side of a shadow. Not a single thing would like dark if he were to explain it with passion, he had never looked at anything like it was more or less than it really was.

 

But looking down at the lifeless body, what remained of his eyes were not shining like expected, they were dull like he had seen a great horror before he died. Jean had almost expected him to look happy even in death, to still be able to speak words of comfort and honesty when he didn't have the tongue to speak them; it was the sole fact that Marco looked like a hallow ghost that had broken Jean, there wasn't a single spark of life left to call a soul with that dead gaze.

 

In front of others, he had put on a brave face, showing a mask of someone who shone with strength and perseverance when he had been shot through the chest. Though he in reality had been clouded with insecurities and hidden pain, it didn't seem to matter how many times he told himself things would keep living on and survive without consent, he would always find tears swelling in his eyes and pain scratching at his heart.

 

He wasn't going to act like some idiot about it, he wasn't going to pretend like it never happened and those three years of friendship were of his imagination, he wasn't going to hide the memories to protect his own sanity. He was once a selfish being who only cared about what good would come his way, but knowing Marco had changed that; and because of that little freckled saint, he was able to see where his path should have been.

 

Jean wasn't ever cut out to be in the Military Police to begin with, he had only wanted to save his own skin and live somewhere that allowed his life to be tolerated. In the minds of the corrupt government, that is the mindset of a perfect soldier they had wanted to accept; someone who would follow orders without question solely because they would be to afraid to disobey the command, anything that risked their life they would fight to avoid.

 

It was almost funny, how he was told many times before that the Military Police where only lazy people, good for nothing other than serving themselves. Though he had only heard it when the silence of death had whispered it with a cunning tone in his ear, what complete a fool that had made him feel like.

 

Jean had wanted to make Marco's death meaningful, he wanted people to see him as a hero and cry the same tears he had. Only not a single person had seen how his life was pulled away, no eye had been privileged enough to see the final moments that he lived. Jean had almost wished that he had at least been there when Marco was taken away; even if he wasn't able to save him, he would at least be able to know what had happened, and would of been able to tell a story that would be printed into everyone's mind who had wished to listen.

 

He knew that there was no possible way that he could tell something like that and make it meaningful if he were to surround himself with the lazy soldiers who called themselves Military Police, his own work would do nothing to give Marco's lost life meaning if he were to do it within the corruption that spread across wall Sina. He decided on the night that Marco's body had been consumed by flame that turned his flesh and bone to ash, he had chosen to fly on the Wings of Freedom to make sure that everything he fought for would be given meaning.

 

He would make sure that Marco's death wasn't for nothing, he wanted to see the Titans defeated and the human race free from hiding behind walls like they feared the shadows, he would fight until victory was claimed or death had decided to take him straight to Hell. He was going to do it with blood in his eyes, Jean Kirschtein of the 104th cadet corps, he was going fight for him, for Marco.

 

-

 

The wind had a quality that allowed it to both sail smoothly across his face and through his hair, while also leaving small, invisible cuts through his skin as he rode across a great plain of land. It hadn't been that long since he had found himself flying with wings that were marked on the back of a green cape, and he was already allowed outside the wall to explore territory claimed by titans. In it's own way, it was a mini expedition, though there wasn't a single thing to discover.

 

One of the requirements for the Scouting Legion was to send a small squad to ride along the wall to inspect for damage and to see if there was any way to track random clusters of titans that chose to crowd around a single location. At least, that's what it was written on paper to say; though most were smart enough to see that it was the Military Police's way of slowly trying to wipe the Scouting Legion out of existence. Any soldier lost in these small wall checks would leave a bad mark on their pride, and before long, there would only be two military branches left to hold a corrupt order.

 

Of course, that wasn't the thought running though little Jean's mind at this moment, now was it. All he was focusing on was holding tight on the reins of his horse and keeping up with the fast pace his squad was following. “Squad” probably wasn't the best word fitted to this situation, there were only three soldiers who trotted horses around the wall. A senor soldier who had gone on two expeditions before and managed to keep himself alive, and two new recruits from the 104th cadet corps. The other trainee wasn't someone Jean really knew, he didn't socialize with a large group of people, it was just another face that blended with the crowd to him.

 

“There's one!” Their Squad leader had shouted with determined words. There was no need for him to point, there was no way to simply “miss” a Titan, it was standing right next to the wall, almost seeming like it was leaning on it though it's feet were planted firmly on the ground, “Hold,” He had ordered as he held his arm out to stop the two who followed.

 

“What is it?” Jean couldn't help but blurt out at the sudden order, if there was a Titan why the hell would they want to stop?

 

Though when he had looked at it, the reason why had planted itself in his mind. This Titan was simply standing, not moving in any way, shape, or form; which could be considered normal behavior for someone who would look and judge at first glance. Though a Titan this close to the wall was sure to spread it's arms across the stone and knead at the surface with it's hands, since they had that strange ability to sense where humans are, the Titan would know that his prey would be hiding behind the walls. So why would he just be simply standing next to it?

 

There was another small fact that had Jean's mind spinning with confusion, that it was staring directly at them.

 

He couldn't see the exact detail or coloration of the eyes from this distance, but he knew that they had been trained on the three soldiers who were brave enough to ride this far into danger. It should have been taking steps towards them, either a slowly paced walk or a fast sprint of a deviant type; though it was only standing at a halt and staring at them with curious eyes. Even a deviant type would be running after them, or at least be running, right?

 

Every member of the squad had been frozen as they gazed into the eyes of the creature, watching as it stared back with a stare that seemed equally frightened. Every soldier had flinched the slightest amount when the titan had moved its arms, holding them up in an innocent gesture; it's palm's were open and facing forward, reaching only it's shoulder as if it were trying to surrender itself to the blades that would leave it alive only in death.

 

Jean had watched in partial fear and curiosity at the Titans movements, it's head had bowed down a little and it shrugged it's shoulders like a child who is about to be punished would do as an act of shame. The only time that he had felt the urge to run with fright, was when the Titan had taken a single step towards the observing squad.

 

The squad leader had yanked the reins with force to turn his horse around, though he had still watched the Titan with a turned neck as the horse rotated itself around; there was only that single step, then silence. A few moments had passed with the wind blowing their capes in it's breeze, drifting curiosity and fear into the air with the flowing fabric. It wasn't his job to investigate these kinds of things, yet Jean had wanted to approach the giant and see what it's true intents were. The shy behavior had brought back a happier spark in his mind for reasons unknown then, it had made the Titan seem like it wasn't a murderer that killed only for blood and not for vengeance.

 

The titan had taken another small step, it was far enough away to where there wasn't even a single echo of the sound, though it had rippled fear through every member of the squad's chest at the advancement; but they had remained still on their horses, simply studying the blurred figure that had been brave enough to take two steps forward.

 

The squad leader had clenched his teeth when the third and forth step had come, followed slowly with a filth and sixth until eventually the steps had become paced with a slow manor. The Titan had stepped gently with insecurity, it's hands still held up with a passive stance; it had acted like a human, and with the knowledge now known to humanity, it was obvious that there was a name to the blurred figure coming into focus with every step.

 

“Sir,” The soldier next to Jean had started.

 

“I know,” The squad leader had hissed through clenched teeth, his muscles had tensed to where the knuckles were forced white.

 

 _A Titan Shifter._ Jean's thoughts had echoed through his mind as he stared at the Titan making a slow advance, it was now close enough to where he could make out individual details. He could write books on what it had looked like, though there was one thing that had killed his curiosity with a quick blow.

 

On the Titan's face where an assortment of freckles, in Jean's mind, that had brought back the pain and memories that had been terrorizing him ever since that day that reeked of ash and death. It had filled him with a fury that forced him to unconsciously push his horse forward with a slowly paced walk, the screamed orders from the other soldiers hadn't been heard through the blood that was beating through his ears.

 

“KIRSCHTEIN!!” His squad leader's voice had only caught attention to him when the Titan was close enough to where he could stare directly into his eyes; still far enough apart for him to run if he had been smart enough to escape.

 

Jean had taken a glance back towards the squad leader, he knew his eyes had been filled with ire and terror to where the soldier had jumped when they made eye contact. He had wanted to shout out an apology for disobeying orders, though his mind wouldn't allow the simple words to be so easily thought of. Instead he had only blinked thoughtfully before turning back towards the Titan that was approaching; he hadn't felt the slick feel of a Titan's blood before, though his mind begged for it to be spilled without a care.

 

He had waited until the Titan had been around ten yards from where his horse stood before placing his hands on the handles of the 3Dimensional Maneuvering Gear, his grasp acting shaky as the fear started to take over his movements. Though he wouldn't dare back down now, he wanted to see the face of the person that lay behind that Titan; he was unsure why, but he had wanted to become a murderer to release the ire that had found itself manifesting within his heart.

 

With a quick motion, he had slipped the silver blades from their careful sheath; seeing the metal glint in the sunlight as they begged to allow the blood to leak pitifully onto the ground only to evaporate into the nothing it really was. He wanted to vent his anger on the figure and make them burn without reason, much like he had in his early years of being a cadet, he had thought he had changed from that time, he was wrong.

 

When he had flashed those blades the Titan had stopped it's steps completely, moving it's arms closer to it's side, crouching in the slightest amount like it was capable of feeling fear. It had almost looked adorable the way it seemed to bow at the hand of two swords that were about to steal it's life away with a quick strike, almost.

 

Jean had pushed his hands that gripped the thin blades on the back of the horses neck to allow him to pull himself to a stance on the saddle. Once he had managed to get a decent hold of his balance, he had made sure to lock eyes with the Titan; glaring the pure hatred that he and all of humanity had felt, he could understand that idiot Yeager better now that the same fire burnt them both. He had just wanted to free this world of the terror that took everything away from it.

 

There was a small flash of emotion in the Titans eyes; fear, guilt, pain, regret, sadness, though not a single hint of violence or ire. Jean had never been allowed the privilege to see a Titan show what it felt, not like a normal one would be capable of such a thing, though he had thought that everyone and everything that had the ability to look and move like a Titan would be as mindless and carefree as one. That's how Eren had acted when he managed to transform, he had even attacked the sister that was always held close to his chest, if someone with as much determination as Eren couldn't control a monster like that, then it seemed unlikely that anyone else would be able to.

 

But Jean had been wrong before.

 

As he pushed himself to leap in the air, the Titan had slowly closed it's eyes; as soon as he launched a cable from his gear, the giant had fallen to it's knees, moving it's hands to grasp the back of it's neck with a strong grip. This was the moment that the squad had been certain that a human lay buried beneath that flesh, whatever was under there, was capable of sharing the emotions that every other human had felt towards the Titans; fear.

 

One of the hooks from Jean's cables had dug into the skin of the Titan's shoulder, causing a small flow of steam to rise from the new wound as he pulled himself with a quick speed towards the nape of the it's neck. He had pulled his blades to his rights side, angling them in a position that would allow his cut to dig deep to make sure that he would be able to slice the flesh with a quick movement. He had made himself parallel to the Titan's head when his sights had caught something that forced his eyes to try and take a second glance; had he seen tears?

 

The distraction and double take had caused his focus to deter from his original attack plan, he hadn't allowed himself the right amount of time to turn his weight around and pull himself across the Titan's neck. Instead, all he was able to do with the few seconds he had was to reel himself in from the cable to cut into the wrists of the creature; which had turned to be a better plan than the original, it was rather funny how a man whose thoughts were tainted with rage would attack with a powered strike with sloppy technique and thought.

 

Jean's landing had turned to be unsteady and he had nearly crashed right into the nape, though he had managed to use both feet to land once the hands had fallen uselessly to the ground as steam rose from the severed wrists. In order to not fall directly off the Titan he had dug his right sword towards the upper right part of the Titan's neck; he had seen Eren emerge from his form, so he was certain that where he had stuck the blade wouldn't be anywhere near the actual human inside.

 

He had raised his left blade to try and cut the figure out without causing any major wounds, his desperate attempt was bound to end up killing the figure that rested inside. His dominant hand was the one grasping the blade that kept him balanced, meaning any attack from his left would be uncoordinated and prove to miss the intended target.

 

The Titan had cringed for a moment before the raised blade had a chance to cause harm, forcing Jean's body to jerk and the grasp he had on his left blade was pulled away. The handle dangling useless from it's connecting cable while he moved both hands to grab hold of the right blade to try and keep his balance on the Titan.

 

There wasn't a moment of time for him to try and regain any lost balance before the body had fallen onto it's stomach, becoming weak and limp as if there wasn't even a soul living within it; the puppeteer had decided to cut the strings to his marionette until he was ready to tie them on once again and begin to bring more terror to shoot through the hearts of those who see his show.

 

With the Titan now at an equal levitation, Jean was able to push himself to his feet and stand on it's back without the use of the blade to hold him up. Glancing over to the small figures that moved ahead of him, he was able to see the squad leader and soldier riding over with his horse; a feared expression was drawn on both of their faces.

 

Jean had looked down towards the center of the nape, seeing now that the Titan's body was starting to flatten as steam came to burn and scratch his skin with it's heat, though he hadn't done a thing to try and fight it or try to keep it from painting his skin red. He had only used his hand to grasp the handle of the blade he would use to slay the person who would emerge from this monster, his ire had still refused to leave even when there was no reason for it to exist.

 

He had begun to see the small bulge that contained the human inside once more of the Titan had begun to evaporate away, raising his sword, he had told his blood lust to wait until he was able to see the face of the figure that waited for him. His mind had fallen into insanity; not seeing common sense through the desperate need he had to prove himself by taking this life, he wasn't a murderer, he was only ridding humanity of one of the many monsters that haunted them.

 

Eventually, the figure had been given a body, pale skin shaded lightly pink from the exhaustion had started to show itself. Though there was still a small strand of flesh that had held tight and covered the arms and face of the shifter, he only needed to wait one more moment, then he would be able to see eyes filled with fear be lost to blood. The skin was starting to evaporate and pull off, it would only be a few more seconds, just a little longer...

 

The blade that had been raised with confidence had fallen immediately to the ground. Jean's eyes had widened when the face had been revealed, his strength had been sucked away from him like it had been that one day. Though this was different, it was the complete opposite of what loss he had felt, though it was still the pain of something being ripped away from his grasp.

 

“Marco?” He had spoken with a soft whisper as he saw those brown eyes slowly open to see the light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
